


we’ll rip up the map by the seams

by Stinastar



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Archespore, Geralt DOES NO PANIC, Healer, Hidden Injury, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Scared Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sick Jaskier | Dandelion, Whump, bard burrito, idiot bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stinastar/pseuds/Stinastar
Summary: This fic was to fulfill a request from the lovely, talented, prolific Bouncey.Jaskier gets hurt and tries to hide it from Geralt, because our sweet boy isn't always that bright. Angst, hurt/comfort, confessions and happy endings!- Title from Not Yet by The Amazing Devil
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 328





	we’ll rip up the map by the seams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bouncey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/gifts).



> Request from Bouncey: You write such great fluff. Would you be interested in Geralt perhaps taking care of the bard after some kind of injury/illness? Maybe confessing his feelings? Maybe some guilt over the injury/illness for spice. But honestly anything you throw at me would be much appreciated.

“Fuck! Get back, Jaskier!”

Geralt cast Igni at the monstrous plant lashing towards them, and it retreated towards the ground. Jaskier stumbled backwards as Geralt rushed forwards, driving his silver sword down into the ground where the plant had retreated.

“Are you ok?” Geralt called over his shoulder, sounding panicked.

“I’m fine. Is it dead?” Jaskier replied breathlessly.

“Doubtful. There’s probably…” Geralt was cut off by another pod shooting from the ground, and he turned to it, slashing with his sword. Jaskier retreated further back, hiding behind the wide trunk of a tree.

———

They had found a contract in the town for something in the woods. The contract only stated that they believed the woods held a monster that was responsible for several disappearances and one death. From the description of the dead body, Geralt suspected an archespore, but he couldn’t be sure. After asking around the village, they heard of a gruesome murder that had taken place a year prior in the same part of the forest as the disappearances had happened and where the dead body was found. An archespore would make sense then, Geralt had mused, as they grew under such circumstances. Geralt had tried to insist that Jaskier stay behind, that it was too dangerous, but Jaskier had begged, whined and pleaded. He was burning to see a monster plant. He’d never seen anything of the sort, and he was morbidly curious and was _sure_ it would make good song material, somehow. So when he managed to break down Geralt’s resolve through sheer annoyance, he was given strict rules. Stay near Geralt, but behind him. Be wary, listen carefully and do _everything_ Geralt said. No exploring or wandering or singing or daydreaming. No fun, Jaskier had mumbled under his breath, which Geralt had pointedly ignored. Jaskier thought he’d done quite well following instructions. Unfortunately, the green archespore had taken them by surprise. It was well camouflaged, and they were closer to it than they’d meant to get when it launched an attack of shooting venom and thorns. Geralt had moved quickly to block Jaskier, and had done a good job of protecting him from the onslaught.

“Did anything hit you? A drop on your skin?” Geralt called back.

“You blocked most of it.” Jaskier replied from behind his tree. “Just a couple drops on my doublet. I’m fine, Geralt.”

“Take it off!” Geralt growled. “Don’t let it touch your skin.”

“Alright, alright.” Jaskier stripped the jewel-toned garment off. Geralt was burning and driving his sword through the remaining pods, rolling when one would burst up through the ground before repeating the process. As Jaskier waited behind the tree, the adrenaline from the sudden attack started to wear off, and he noticed a burning sensation in his side. He wrinkled his nose and carefully lifted his shirt to examine his abdomen. He bit back a curse. A thorn had managed to pierce his clothing and was lodged in his skin. Shit shit shit. If Geralt found out, this might be the last hunt he went on. It should be fine, right? It was fine. He felt fine. Thinking about what Geralt had said about anything touching his skin, he took the handkerchief out of his pocket and gingerly pulled the thorn out, biting his lip to stop from gasping. Sure, it had already been inside him, but no use spreading anything, right? He dropped the thorn to the forest floor and ground it into the dirt with his boot heel, then tucked the handkerchief into his discarded doublet on the ground.

The puncture from the thorn burned slightly, but it wasn’t that bad. He could absolutely hide it from Geralt, and it would probably be scabbed over and forgettable by tomorrow. It was just a thorn. He peeked around the side of the tree to watch Geralt surveying the smouldering ground around him, stabbing into it here and there for good measure.

“I think that’s it.” Geralt said, walking towards Jaskier. “I’ll burn that,” he said, kicking Jaskier’s doublet away from him.

“What, no, why…” Jaskier sputtered. “I’ll just wash it!”

“It’s poisonous. I’m burning it.” Geralt held Jaskier back with his left arm while he cast Igni with his right, and the pile of clothing went up in flames. Jaskier whined behind him.

“Now I’m down to only _two_ doublets, Geralt!”

“You’re the one who insisted on coming” Geralt grunted. He turned towards Jaskier and set his hands on the brunet’s shoulders, looking over his hair and face. Jaskier wiggled away and waved his hands.

“I told you I’m _fine_ , Geralt!”

“Shouldn’t have let you come. Too dangerous.”

“Well, I won’t have to come for an archespore again. I’ve seen one now, that will suffice. Horribly ugly things, and apparently no-one ever taught them that spitting is rude… Now, let’s go back, collect your reward, get a few pints and a hot dinner…”

They headed off back through the forest, towards the village. Jaskier’s feet started dragging as they left the forest, but it had been a long day. They visited the alderman and collected Geralt’s reward, then returned to the inn where they’d booked a room earlier, and sat down in the tavern with ale and a meal. Geralt looked up from his food to stare at his bard.

“You alright, Jask?”

“Mmm? Fine. Just tired.” He replied, his eyelids drooping.

“You look like you’re going to drop into your stew.”

Jaskier waved him off and scooped up a spoonful. It felt like a monumental effort. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this tired. He didn’t think the day had been _that_ long. But they had been sleeping outdoors for days, maybe he’d had even less sleep than he’d thought. Sometimes the noises in nature kept him awake. He managed to finish his stew and ale without really realizing it or tasting anything. His eyes blinked heavily and took longer to reopen.

“Think I’ll call it a night,” he said, slurring slightly. Geralt looked at him with concern. Jaskier’s eyes looked glassy and his cheeks were rosy.

“Hmm.” Geralt quickly downed the rest of his pint and set coins on the table before getting up to follow his companion. Something was off. Maybe the bard was getting sick. Humans were so much more fragile than Witchers, and sometimes he failed to realize when Jaskier needed a rest. He followed Jaskier’s dragging footsteps up to their room. Jaskier kicked off his boots, stumbling around in the process until Geralt caught him by the shoulder to steady him.

“Are you getting sick? You seem warm.” Geralt asked.

“Mm fine.” Jaskier brushed him off awkwardly, then undid his trousers and shoved them off without any of his usual grace. He fell heavily onto the bed in his shirt and braies, and Geralt tucked the blanket around him.

“Get some rest. I’m going to clean my armour and sword before I lay down.”

“Mmm.” Came the quiet response, murmured into the pillow. Geralt sighed. He promised himself he’d be more mindful of the bard in their travels in the future.

———

Geralt woke early the next morning, sweating. Why was it so hot?! It was the beginning of fall, and the small fire he’d lit in their room last night had long since gone out. He grunted and rolled over, his arm brushing Jaskier’s.

“The fuck?”

Jaskier was burning up. His cheeks were red, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, skin hot to the touch.

“Jaskier.” He shook him gently by the shoulder. Jaskier made the smallest groan in response but didn’t rouse. “Jaskier! Wake up.” He shook him more soundly, but without any better results. Geralt’s stomach clenched. He should know more about human illness. How bad was this? Jaskier had been sick on the path before, sneezing, coughing, whining. A mild fever once, but it was nothing like this. This couldn’t be normal. Maybe it was normal. Don’t panic. He slid out of bed and quickly dressed, then looked down at Jaskier. He briefly considered trying to dress him, but quickly discarded the idea as too much fuss. Instead he leaned over and wrapped the other man in the sheet and blanket, then hefted him into his arms. Jaskier let to a small protesting groan, and Geralt felt a twinge in his chest and cradled him closer.

“It’s alright, Jask. I’ve got you. We’re going to the healer.”

At least he wouldn’t have to waste time searching or asking around. They’d passed the healer’s house on their way to the forest earlier that day, and thankfully it wasn’t a far walk from the inn. Geralt held Jaskier close against the chill morning air as he hurried down the street. Was that right? Or should he let him cool off? Jaskier started to shiver and shake in his arms and he tightened his grip.

“Almost there, Jaskier,” he said, possibly more for his benefit than the unconscious bard’s. He hurried up the small path and knocked sharply at the healer’s door. He heard grumbling, then the soft thud of feet hitting the floor followed by shuffling towards the door. The door creaked open and a woman with long grey hair peered around it.

“This better be good,” she said, voice rough with sleep, looking from the Witcher’s face to the shivering bundle in his arms.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but please, my… friend. He’s sick. I don’t…” Geralt was pleading, his brow furrowed. She frowned and peered at the feverish face sticking out of the blankets, then raised her hand to press the back of it to Jaskier’s forehead. She hissed and withdrew her hand, her face pinched. Geralt’s eyes went wide. That was not a good sign. Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic.

“Let’s get inside, hmm?” She said to him, turning quickly and leading the way into the house. She crossed the small sitting room and went into a small room with a bed and a large shelf filled with jars.

“Put him down there, love.” She gestured to the bed and he quickly crossed over and gently laid Jaskier down. “That’s it. When did he first start getting sick?” She asked Geralt as she knelt by the bed, holding Jaskier’s wrist and silently counting his heartbeat.

“Uh, last night, I guess?”

She looked up at him quickly with wide eyes and raised brows. Geralt rubbed his medallion with his thumb.

“He was fine earlier in the day. He seemed off later on. Said he was tired, went to bed early.”

She let go of Jaskier’s wrist with a frown and started checking him over, looking into his eyes, mouth, ears.

“He’ll be fine. Right? It’s a… flu, or something? Humans get those a lot…?”

“Did anything strange happen yesterday?” The healer asked, ignoring his questions. “Did he… eat anything strange? Or…”

“Not really? We got food at the market this morning, took care of the archespore in your forest in the afternoon, and ate at the inn in the evening.”

“…Archespore.” She stared at Geralt, pinning him with a deadly look. He stared back.

“…No. He…no. He was behind me, he was fine. A couple drops of venom got on his doublet, which I made him take off, and I burned it. He couldn’t… it couldn’t…” His hands started to tremble and he clenched them into fists at his sides. The healer turned back to Jaskier and started looking over his face and neck, then his hands. When she found nothing she pulled the blankets down to tug off his shirt, and he whimpered. Geralt flinched at the sound, then gasped as the healer pulled off Jaskier’s shirt. The skin on the left side of his torso was blotchy, spreading out from an angry red and purple spot on his side. The healer looked up at Geralt. He couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.

“You were saying?” She asked pointedly.

“Is that…? But he said he was fine. How do you…”

“I’m good at my job, honey.” She ghosted a fingertip over the centre of the discoloured skin. “I’d say he got a thorn, right here.”

Geralt’s breath strangled in his throat.

“Is…” his voice caught and he coughed. “Will he be ok? You can fix this, right?” He asked, his voice scraping out of his throat.

Jaskier started shivering more violently, and the healer brought the blanket up to his chin.

“I’ll do my best. It’s good you didn’t wait any longer to bring him to me.”

“Can I do anything?” He asked quietly.

“You can go round the other side. Let him know you’re there.” She got up and started looking through jars on the shelf against the wall, murmuring to herself.

Geralt walked around the bed and knelt by Jaskier’s head.

“Jaskier… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you come on the hunt. I should have had you stay further back. Should have paid more attention…” he trailed off, then started again with more heat. “You’re a stupid bastard, you know that? Don’t you _dare_ die on me after lying to my face and telling me you’re fine.” He gently brushed Jaskier’s damp hair off of his forehead. “I’d never forgive you.” He murmured, anger gone as quickly as it had come.

The healer came back over, pulling the blankets away on her side to smooth a poultice over the wound, then with Geralt’s help she carefully wrapped it with a bandage. Next they fed Jaskier an elixir. Geralt’s heart stopped when Jaskier choked on it briefly. When Jaskier’s breath evened out Geralt’s heart restarted with a thump.

“That’s all we can do for now.” The healer told Geralt.

“I’ll just… stay here, if that’s alright.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything. My name’s Marta. Just call,” she said with a soft smile.

“Geralt. And this is Jaskier.”

“A pleasure, Sir Witcher.” She nodded, then went out to the kitchen. Geralt fussed with Jaskier’s blankets for a moment and tucked the hair that had fallen back into his eyes to the side. With nothing else to do, he leaned back against the wall to meditate. He shared a meal with Marta a few hours later, then gave her a hand grinding herbs while sitting vigil by Jaskier’s side.

———

Hours later, at some time during the night, Geralt was woken by shuffling and murmuring. He shot up from where he’d been slumped against the wall.

“Jaskier?” His voice came out like rough gravel.

“Mmm. G’ralt?” Came the muzzy answer. Jaskier started to shift in the bed, and Geralt shot a hand out to gently push his shoulder down.

“Stay put.”

“Wha… where…”

“You lied.”

“Whu?”

“You got hit by an archespore thorn?!” Geralt growled.

“Well, just one _tiny_ …”

“JASKIER. You were being _poisoned to death_. I… I could have _lost_ you.”

“You…?”

“Don’t you _ever_ do that again. I will kill you myself.”

Jaskier just stared at him, dumbfounded.

“So _stupid_ , Jask. Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I… I thought it would be ok? And I knew if you found out you’d get all huffy and mad, and I thought you might not let me come on more hunts…” his voice got smaller and trailed off.

“Well I certainly won’t if you hide injuries from me!!”

“I’m sorry Geralt.” He whispered. “I’m ok, though.”

“Ok? OK?! I woke to you burning up the bed. Rushed you off to the healer, who discovered you’d been hiding _archespore poisoning_ , and she couldn’t even assure me that you’d be ok!” Geralt’s breaths were coming out in quick huffs.

“Geralt…”

“What would I have done?” Geralt asked desperately. “What would I have done if you… I can’t… Jaskier…”

“Come here” Jaskier said softly, reaching a hand out of the blankets to beckon the Witcher closer. To his surprise, the Witcher dove forward and buried his face into Jaskier’s neck, taking a deep breath through his nose, inhaling his comforting scent, tinged with sickly sweetness and herbs. Jaskier froze for a moment before gently putting his hand on the Witcher’s head, then softly combing through his hair. “I’m here. I’m alright. I promise I won’t hide anything from you again.” Geralt took a few slow, shaky breaths, not moving.

“Better not.” Geralt muttered into Jaskier’s neck.

“Hmm.” Jaskier smiled slightly. “Were you sleeping on the floor, dear heart?” Jaskier asked after a few moments.

“Mmm. Didn’t want to leave you.”

“Here.” Jaskier shuffled over to the left side of the small bed.

“No. You’re hurt. And the bed is tiny.”

“Come on. Laying beside me won’t hurt me. It will help me. I’m cold. And in need of comfort.” If it was really the other way around, no-one needed to know. Far be it from him to say so to the Witcher’s face. “Come on!” Jaskier tugged at Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt grunted, then gingerly laid himself down as close to the right side of the bed as possible. Jaskier took Geralt’s left hand in his right and rubbed his thumb across the back of it. Geralt nuzzled his face into Jaskier’s hair. “You won’t though, right?” Jaskier asked quietly after a moment.

“What?” Geralt asked into his hair.

“Leave me behind.” Jaskier whispered.

“Never.” Geralt whispered huskily, squeezing his hand. He leaned up to press a kiss to Jaskier’s warm forehead.

“Good.” Jaskier whispered back.

“Can’t trust you on your own, anyways.” Geralt said quietly, leaning his forehead against Jaskier’s.

“I’d like…” Jaskier took a shaky breath before trying again, looking at Geralt with wet shining eyes. “Geralt, would you.. would you kiss me” he got out in a rush. Geralt didn’t move or respond, but right as he was about to nervously laugh it off as a joke, Geralt tipped his head and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before slowly pulling back, foreheads back to touching.

“Oh.” Jaskier whispered softly. After a moment he moved and nipped at Geralt’s bottom lip.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, biting back a smile. “You’re hurt and sick. You need to rest. Go to sleep.”

Jaskier pouted.

“Maybe later, then?”

“Later” Geralt agreed, the side of his mouth quirking up. He rested his head above Jaskier’s, and Jaskier turned his face to him, snuggling under his chin.

“I love you, Geralt.” he whispered quietly.

“You are an idiot.” Geralt said fondly, squeezing his hand. Jaskier heard the ‘I love you’ anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Your kudos and comments brighten my day 🌈💖  
> Check out my profile for more Witcher fics!  
> Find me on tumblr under stinawrites & stinastar


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